


freedom is a choice

by annabeehive



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25159405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeehive/pseuds/annabeehive
Summary: it's not like it's some huge event. but in a place where nothing changes, ever, something did.
Kudos: 3





	freedom is a choice

**Author's Note:**

> apparently i only write abt calypso lol

on ogygia, time doesn’t move the same way. calypso woke up every morning, she wove, she sang, she gardened, but there was no way to mark the passing years besides the heroes who came, and left with her heart.

one day, though, calypso left her cave, and something was different. the island was the same. the same trees, the same view of her garden, the same half-finished tapestry left hanging on her loom. but on the beach, there was the raft. she did a double take, making sure that there were no heroes on her island at the moment, that she hadn’t slipped so far away from herself that she no longer noticed even the arrival of someone new.

but there was no one. she called out to the gods, to hermes or hephaestus or anyone who might deign to visit her island and provide an explanation, but was met only with the caress of the usual gentle breeze.

she watched that raft bob up and down in the surf, unassuming. as if it had been there for years. had it? no. calypso was sure of it. the raft only showed up when there was a hero to escort home. but there was only her.

she turned away from the beach, and faced back to her garden. perhaps this was just a sign that a new hero would arrive soon, one whose stay would be even shorter than the rest. perhaps with time, it was getting easier to win her heart. perhaps ogygia would become just another stop in her heroes’ adventures, rather than the agonizing choice she at least liked to pretend it was.

either way, it made no effect on her life. she wove, she sang, she gardened, she waited for the next hero to come. this was how it had almost always been, and surely how it would always be.

weeks passed. months. (or was it years?). the breeze was still warm, the moon still waxed and waned over the same plants in the same places they had always been. she finished her tapestry, and started a new one.

but time and time again, her gaze would return to that raft. her mind could not help but latch onto it, this, her only mystery.

what did she know? it came when a hero was ready to leave, when they were ready to return to the world. but with no hero, what signal could be sent? was it just another torment of the gods, a constant reminder of the world she would never see, the purpose she would never get to discover, let alone fulfill?

she had to know. one morning (it didn’t matter which one, it could have been any of them, it could have been none) calypso walked down to the beach. the raft was larger up close. she could see the stained wood, listened to it creak in the water. she thought about all of the heroes she had loved, and how all of them had stood on this place, had placed their hands on that sail.

as if in a trance, she reached out and touched the salt-damaged wood. it was rough, but sturdy. she closed her eyes and imagined the relief that her heroes must have felt, to return somewhere. sorrow, too, perhaps, at leaving such a beautiful place.

calypso hitched up her skirt, and stepped onto the raft, and looked up at the shoreline, at her garden, and her cave. she tried to see ogygia as they had. as just another port, a line in their story. it felt impossible. this island was everything she was.

suddenly, she felt a jolt and realized that the shoreline was getting further away. she was leaving.


End file.
